I close my eyes at the longing in his voice, the needy way he says my name.
I remember saying similar words to Jeremy, when I was trying to convey just how right we were—how desperate I was to make him understand that we belonged together, and how frustrated I was that he didn’t hear me.
When I open my eyes again, I see that frustration on Carter’s face—that desperate, fraught desire for me to believe him, to stop denying my feelings.
How cruel it would be for me to disregard his emotions. I can’t be that ruthless, not to the boy who has invaded my soul like a storm, tearing down every barricade I’ve put up to protect myself. It’s been so long since I let anyone in, let anyone get close. He’s made me feel.
His gaze travels over my features, searching. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
There’s a fraction of a second—one moment of hesitancy—where I could stop him.
But I don’t. More than let it happen, I’m complicit as I meet him there.
Our lips collide, and every dormant emotion I’ve allowed to die in my quest to be sane and normal and rational bursts through me as I breathe him in. He tastes like heaven and hell, sin and salvation. Pure rapture.
If Carter Hensley is a devil sent to torment me, then I’ll be the angel to deliver us both.
The Fire
Ellis
Devil’s Bluff is a flat rock formation that juts out from the bowels of Black Mountain. The bluff overlooks a lake at the mountain’s base, creating a dark basin effect, like a landscape painting by Van Gogh.
The dangerous climb through the bluff’s two peaks is known as Devil’s Tooth. A sharp rocky growth that rises up like the jagged ridge of a demon’s mouth. There’s a narrow path atop the toothed structure. It’s a dangerous path to cross and, according to legend, no one has ever survived the attempt.
The locals simply call this the pass.
A while ago, a couple of girls went missing. Their bodies were later discovered mangled and mutilated by coyotes on the bluff, just a stone’s throw away from the pass. If the killer had wanted them to disappear completely, he should’ve thrown their bodies down the ravine of the pass, never to be seen again.
I’m taught this Black Mountain history lesson by Carter as he builds a fire. Nestled on his uniform blazer, I stare into the darkening sky above the ridge. The changeover from day to night happened so abruptly, it’s like we entered another time zone.
Or another world. One where judgement can’t touch us. Because out here, we’re shrouded by the anonymity of darkness. All sins committed in the veil of night never feel wrong in the moment. They feel necessary and needy, our demand too great to be ignored.
Once my feet hit the halls of the academy tomorrow, there will be shame. Maybe even regret. I’m trying not to think about that now. I want this moment to last, for however long I can make it.
My lips are still tender from his kiss. I touch my mouth as the fire crackles to life, the small flame wavering in the open air. The scent of burning pine needles and dry limbs is a balm to my overstressed system.
Carter tucks a Zippo lighter into his pocket. “It’s become a dare,” he says, continuing the tale about Devil’s Tooth. “Kids come up here to get drunk, dare each other to cross the pass. The floor of the ravine is said to be covered with scattered, picked-clean bones. Animals, humans. It was a pretty gruesome thing to hear growing up.”
“How often do people come up here?” I ask.
He gives me a knowing look. “You mean, is anyone going to suddenly show up and find us out?” He stands and moves closer to settle down beside me, drawing my legs over his lap. The act so casual, familiar, as if we’ve done this a million times before. “Not tonight.”
It’s ethereal, this intensity he exudes. There is no hesitancy in him, no need to stop. Think. Weigh choices. Carter is full force or nothing. I’m starting to think that’s why his file reads as it does, that he’s misunderstood. If directed on the right path, aggressive behavior can be perceived as a positive.
CEOs. Lawyers. Politicians. More than not these type-A personalities are praised for their aggressive pursuit in their careers.
His hand traces a path back and forth over my leg, then progresses above my knee, fingers dipping beneath my skirt. An alarm flares inside me, and I lay my hand over his.
“No one comes to Devil’s Bluff during the week. It’s just us,” he says, still thinking I’m worried about being seen, caught. He pushes closer and sweeps my hair from my neck, where he places a tender kiss.
His hair grazes my cheek, and I sigh at the tantalizing feel of it. “How do the kids know to meet here? Some secret code sent out on social media?”
With sudden interest, he looks up. “Why aren’t you online, Ellis?”
I hesitate before forming an answer. “I know it’s hard for someone your age to believe, but not everyone wants to be on social media.” I tamp down the unease his question stirs.
His jaw tightens. “You keep doing that,” he says, a severe edge in his voice. “Bringing up my age.” His movements are fast and fierce as he closes a hand around my ankle and pulls me halfway beneath him. “Guess I’ll just have to prove I’m a man.”